Carnival Games
by scarletphlame
Summary: Mike doesn't work at Freddy Fazbear's for the pay, or for the recognition, or just to be a hero. He has fun doing it. Moreso, he wants to do it. Well, why?


The carnival was alive with the sounds of people, children and adults alike. Mike did not feel alive. Although that wasn't to say he felt dead; it was just that Mike felt very little nowadays. It had never been his idea to set foot here, and the grim recognition that he might actually be clinically depressed had begun to sunk in at the realization that he no longer enjoyed what he normally would.

Mike was an honest-to-God kid at heart. When he was at work, he had a game console tucked into his pocket; when he was at home, he was rearranging his comic book collection or playing RPG games. Of course, as of late, he hadn't been to work much, and he hadn't been enthused enough to sift through the mountainous pile of comics, so he mostly stayed in bed all day watching television or playing video games.

So, here he was. At a carnival. With the Fireball and the Sizzler and all the rides he should be enjoying-and already riding on, in fact-and they had absolutely no appeal to him.

It made him feel empty.

Immersed in his own thoughts, he was startled at the gentle tap against his shoulder. He turned to see Jensen, flashing him a big, bright grin and holding up a Coke bottle. In his other hand, a regular kids' fruit punch cup, complete with the straw and plastic lid. He thrust it into his hands.

"Have a sip," said Jensen, grinning hugely.

Mike felt compelled to argue, because he knew that whatever was in the cup was definitely not fruit punch, but he found himself caring less and less with each sip he took. Jensen sighed and sat down on a stool beside the one Mike was sitting on.

"Happy 30th," he chirped. "How's it feel, then?"

Mike turned. "Old."

Jensen laughed abruptly, so that the sound that came out of him was more of a bark. "I know. You sure look it. How'd the date last night go, then?"

Ah. There it was. He'd been waiting for that question. "It didn't."

Jensen didn't look very shocked. Mike could see him slowly begin to process what he had just said. "Pardon?"

"There was no date last night."

"Oh." Jensen seemed to come to a conclusion, if only slowly. "So, she couldn't make it or what?"

"She broke up with me. By text. About a week ago." The alcohol in the cup seemed to be shrinking more and more. Mike was shocked to see that the volume had decreased so quickly.

"Ah, I see," Jensen said awkwardly. At least he was comfortable enough to feel awkward in the first place, Mike thought.

"We-ll. I was going to have this myself, but I think you need it more." Jensen looked sheepish as he handed Mike a full bottle. "I mean, you aren't supposed to be drinking here, and they'll probably kick you out if you get too drunk-it is a kids' carnival, for chrissakes', but just... well."

"Thanks," Mike mustered up a response.

"I'm off to go find the others," Jensen said, clapping him on the back. "You can stay here if you like, but we'll be hanging around. If you wanna join us at anytime, you got my mobile number. Shoot me a call. We'll be meeting at 5 for drinks, my place." He flashed him a beam and ruffled his hair with the palm of his hand, disappearing into the noisy crowd of people.

Mike eventually stood, hiding the bottle inside his tote bag and setting off for the attractions tent. He might as well see something, since he was here.

There was a small crowd forming inside the large tent, with a stage featuring several large animatronics. One a bear, another a duck (or a chicken), a purple rabbit of some sort, and one an animatronic fox. It was the fox that grabbed his attention-the eyes seemed to bore into his the closer he stared. He averted his gaze, chalking it up to some sort of mental issue that came with depression. Anxiety was one of those symptoms, right?

"What's this, then?" he asked a stranger beside him.

"Well, I guess it's some sort of animatronic band thing. The owner's friends with the guy that runs the carnival."

Mike frowned. "How'd you know?"

The stranger scoffed, jabbing a thumb towards a nearby sign. "Says so on the sign. Look, if you're not gonna pay attention to the band, can you get out of the way? You're blocking my daughter's view."

Promptly exiting, Mike took a turn towards the sign. The establishment the animatronics were from was called 'Freddy Fazbear's Pizza', a children's game and dining place. He'd heard about it a few times, but hadn't ever gone. He liked pizza, and he liked games. Maybe he could convince the guys to go one day, bring some of their kids with. It was a pretty stupid idea, but Mike had always loved Chuck E. Cheese's when he was a kid; some nostalgia might do him some good.

He turned and found his way into one of the smaller tents, with a sigh. Those had been the days. When everything had been all right and he had no responsibility, nothing to worry or care about.

Mike closed his eyes, sinking deep into thought. The uproar of the crowd around him got louder, and louder, then he heard nothing at all.

When his eyes flickered open, he found himself lying in the dirt, his figure pressing into the mud. Groaning, he came to a shaky stand. His line of vision blurred, and he blinked until he could see clearly. Ah. He was inside a small, round fabric tent, able to walk about ten paces before he reached the other side of the striped red pattern. His fingers slipped into his pocket and he retrieved his mobile, turning it on. Low battery, about twenty percent. The time read 2:00 in the morning.

The tent was closed-odd, because it'd been open when he'd entered, so surely someone would have seen him and told him to leave (unless there was a kid trying to pull a prank on him). Whatever the reason, it hardly mattered. Mike just wanted to go home.

He peeled back the curtain and froze.

The large tent across from his tent was slightly ajar, a small hand pulling it back. But the hand was not small, nor was it a hand-but a paw, a furry one, one he remembered from the band on stage. It was odd, but, then again-teenagers.

His phone chimed, and he quickly answered the incoming call. "Hello?" His voice was laced with sleep and drowsiness.

"Oh, uh, hey. Where are you?" It was Jensen.

"At the carnival. S'pose I fell asleep here." Mike scratched the back of his neck, wondering if Jensen would be willing to give him a ride.

"What-wait, what?"

"I fell asleep."

"How the fuck do you fall asleep at a carnival?"

"Well, I did."

"Look, my battery's running low. Do you mind giving me a ride?"

"You're on the other side of the goddamn town! It'll take me an hour, at the least, maybe two!"

"Please?"

"...Goddamnit, fine. But you owe me, y'hear?"

"Yeah. Gotcha."

Mike switched his phone up, and glanced up again.

His whole body froze over.

The hand that had held the tent curtain back was completely gone, replaced by a full upper torso and a face. The eyes were no longer the defining feature of the fox he had seen before, but the jaws and the teeth glared at him menacingly.

It became apparent to him that something was wrong, very wrong indeed.

Wrong... but startlingly _exciting_.


End file.
